Rating: PG
Pairing: Sam/Carol
Spoilers: No specifics.
Feedback: Makes my day
Disclaimer: If it was in the show, it's not mine.
Archive: At my site The Band Gazebo (helsinkibaby.ahkay.net) Anywhere else please ask first.
Summary: Sam leaves the White House.
Author's Note: One of those strange coincidences…for an entire weekend, I had the notion of doing a fic where Sam would leave the White House, and knew the speech more or less that he would make while doing it. I thought nothing of it, filing it away for future possible use. Then on the Wednesday, I downloaded my email and wandered into the middle of a breaking story about Rob Lowe leaving The West Wing. Once the music of the Twilight Zone had stopped playing, I sat down and started on this…it's a little different for me, but this is how it came out!

He shifted restlessly in his sleep, and as he did so, a cold draught of air moved under the covers, nudging him partway to wakefulness. He turned over, even in sleep stretching an arm out to bring her closer to him, but he encountered only empty space. His hand patted the mattress, searching, in case she'd simply moved out of reach, but when his brain worked out that she wasn't there, his eyes opened, and he frowned slightly, a sound of confusion emerging from his lips. He blinked sleepily, rubbing his eyes as he sat up, glancing over at the bedside clock. The red neon shouted that it was just after two in the morning, and some part of his brain informed him that he was usually only heading to bed at this hour of the night. For that matter, so was she, and she was a far sounder sleeper than he was.

He reached out and snapped on the lamp, wincing as the bright light assaulted him. When he was able to see clearly, he noted that his robe was missing from the hook on the door. Experimentally, he placed his hand on the mattress where she would normally lie, and found it stone cold. She'd been absent for a while then, sneaking out of bed without him noticing. That was his province, and the thought struck him that she must have been taking lessons from him on how to leave the bed without waking up the other occupant.

Casting around on the floor, he found his boxers and pulled them on, heading for the door. He was halfway across the room when the chill of the March night struck him, and he stopped at the dresser on the way out, pulling on a Lakers T-shirt over his head then continuing to the living room.

He stood in the doorway for a long moment, just looking at her. Her long hair was loose, spilling over her shoulders, and she was curled up on the couch, legs tucked up underneath her. His robe swamped her, and the net effect was that she looked far younger than she actually was, almost childlike in the darkness. The only light in the room came from the lamp in the corner, and her face was partly in shadow, making it difficult for him to see her exact expression.

He could make a guess at it though.

In her hand, she held a piece of paper, staring at it in the dim light. Any other time, he would have told her that she'd ruin her eyesight like that. Tonight however, he thought that she had more to worry about than the state of her eyesight. He took a step closer to her, then another, but she didn't look up, lost in thought.

As he got closer, he could see what held her attention; a photograph, five women, arms around one another, posing for the camera in their formal wear, with a party going on behind them. They were all laughing; her in the middle, dark hair falling down her back, a blonde and a redhead to her left, another redhead and a dark-skinned woman to her right.

Two months ago they'd had the world at their feet.

He was close enough to see the faint tear tracks on her face when she finally looked up at him, and his heart broke at the naked sorrow that he saw there. "Hey," was all he said, reaching down to touch the top of her head tentatively. She leaned into his touch and he moved so that he was standing right beside her. She leaned forward slightly, so that the top of her head rested against his leg, and his hand moved slightly through her hair, all without uttering a word.

"I couldn't sleep," she told him eventually.

"You should have woken me." There was no reproach in his tone. In fact, there wasn't much of anything in his tone.

"I didn't like to…" she whispered, and he didn't miss the catch in her voice.

"Liar." The word could have been cruel, but there was a smile in his voice this time, and against his leg, he felt a grin cross her face before disappearing quickly. "Talk to me?" His voice was a plea, and she pulled back slightly, looking up at him.

"Guilty conscience," was all she could manage before a tear made its way down her cheek. He moved his hand from the top of her head to her cheek, wiping away the tear, reaching out with his other hand to cup her under the chin.

"None of this is your fault Carol," he told her, but that only caused her eyes to fill with tears.

"Sam, you gave up your dream today…" she choked out, but he shook his head, cutting her off as he sank down on to the couch beside her.

"Not so much," he said, leaning forward to kiss the top of her head. "I've still got my dream. Right here."

The photo slipped to the floor, forgotten, as she slipped her arms around him. "It's not the same Sam…"

"No," he responded, pulling her into a tight hug. "It's better."

>*<*>*<

The apartment was dark and cold when they opened the door, walking in slowly, carefully. It might have been because both of them had four years worth of memories in their arms. It might have been because they were tired, wrung out emotionally.

It might have been both.

He kicked the door behind him, having let her enter first, ever the gentleman. He unceremoniously dropped the box on the floor, away from any doorways, making sure that it was as far up against the wall as he could get it. Otherwise, nothing was surer than that he'd trip over it at some point in the next few hours. He sighed as he looked down at it, then looked up at her. She was just standing there in his hallway - their hallway now he corrected - with her box still in her arms, her eyes wide, looking more lost than he'd ever seen anybody look.

Mustering a smile, though it took all the energy he had left, he reached out and took the box from her unresisting arms, putting it down beside his, likewise making sure that it was pushed in as far as it would go. Twice the boxes, twice the chance of falling over them he heard a voice saying in the back of his mind, and it sounded familiar, so he pushed it away.

When he looked back at her, her arms were hanging loosely by her sides, and she still looked lost. He shook his head, stepping towards her, knowing that there were no words that he could say. It was ironic, he supposed, because words had, after all, been their business for the last four years.

No longer.

So he did the only thing he could do.

He put his arms around her, and held her, sighing into her hair as her arms slipped in a welcome circle around his waist.

"We'll be fine," he told her, but he wasn't sure who he was trying to convince.

>*<*>*<

The box was filled to the brim, and stood on top of her empty desk. It looked wrong somehow, all clean and bare like that. It didn't look like her desk at all.

Of course, that was because it wasn't anymore.

Her hands were on the sides of the box, and she was all ready to pick it up and walk away when a voice from the doorway stopped her. "You didn't think you were going to get away that easily, did you?"

The lump already in her throat seemed to triple in size as she looked across at the woman who had been her boss, and her friend, for the last four years. Back on the campaign, she'd been in awe of CJ Cregg, a woman who was not only intelligent but beautiful, savvy and good at her job, who looked as at home in a pair of trousers and a jumper as she did in the most expensive evening gowns. With all those attributes, she shouldn't have been nice as well, but she was. At first, Carol had respected CJ, but respect had grown into awe and worship, and those had grown into a deep friendship.

She was really going to miss her.

"I just…I didn't want to make…"

"Make a fuss?" CJ's tone was halfway between laughter and tears. "Carol, you're the best assistant I've ever had. And you're my friend too." The words brought tears to Carol's eyes, and she swallowed hard, trying to keep them back. "You think I'm just going to let you walk out of here and not say anything to you?"

"I was hoping," Carol quipped, running a finger underneath the bottom lashes of her eyes to catch any stray tears before returning the hand to the box.

CJ stepped closer to her, and Carol let her hands drop from the side of the box, letting them rest on top of it instead. "You know you don't have to do this, don't you?" CJ's voice was low. "We can-"

"I do CJ." It might have been the first time in over four years that Carol had ever used that tone of voice with CJ, the tone of voice that she used from time to time to smack down reporters who had got out of line. CJ blinked when she heard it, either in surprise or recognition, Carol wasn't sure, and when she repeated her words, she used her normal speaking voice again. "I do."

CJ was silent for a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice rose on a sob. "Can't blame me for trying, can you?" She paused to get herself under control again, because CJ Cregg didn't let herself slip in the White House like that, but she only partially succeeded before she spoke again. "Do you know what you'll do?"

Carol shook her head. "We'll find something." The words sounded more certain in her head, and she chuckled to herself, with little humour. "We'll be fine CJ." But she wasn't sure who she was trying to convince.

CJ shook her head once more, reaching out to enfold the younger woman in a hug. "You need anything, you call me, do you hear me? Anything."

Carol returned the hug gladly, for now, not even trying to staunch her tears. "I'm going to miss you CJ," she whispered.

"Don't be a stranger," was the response, and then CJ pulled back, and they spent a few seconds wiping away their tears. "The other assistants wanted to ask you out…" she began, but Carol shook her head.

"This is all the goodbye I can stand," she said. "I get all weepy and emotional…it's not pretty." She waved a hand over her face in illustration. "You can probably tell."

"You're leaving the White House Carol," CJ pointed out. "You're not walking out of our lives."

"Yeah," Carol replied, knowing that she was lying, knowing that CJ knew it too, but unable, unwilling, to point that out.

>*<*>*<

The box was filled to the brim, and stood on top of his empty desk. It looked wrong somehow, all clean and bare like that. It didn't look like his desk at all.

Of course, that was because it wasn't anymore.

He heard the sound of a gentle knock on the door and looked up to see Bonnie and Ginger standing there. He managed a rueful grin for them, but neither returned it. Bonnie's face was sombre, while Ginger's eyes were red, and she held a balled up tissue in her left hand. Even as he stood looking at the two of them, she sniffed loudly, her fair cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

The noise seemed to break the tension in the room, and Sam grinned, this time with humour, at them, walking over and pulling them into a hug. "It's ok," he found himself saying, although he really didn't think that it was, but he thought that they needed to hear it.

When they pulled away from him, he rested one hand on each of their upper arms, squeezing them lightly. He wanted to say something, but Bonnie had tears in her eyes now, and Ginger was dabbing at hers with that ratty tissue, and there was a lump in his throat that he couldn't speak past.

He was spared having to say anything by another knock at the door, and both women fairly jumped when they saw their boss standing there. "Mind if I have the room?" Toby asked, looking from Sam to the two women and back.

They both nodded, each giving Sam another, quicker, hug before they left, closing the door behind them. Sam stood, staring at Toby for a moment before walking back around his desk, looking down into the box, checking that he had everything. "I know what you're going to say," he said, and when he looked up, Toby hadn't moved, his hands in his trouser pockets, rocking back and forth gently on the balls of his feet.

"I thought you spoke very well today," he said simply, and Sam blinked in surprise, because whatever he'd thought Toby was going to say, it wasn't that. "What you said was honest, and truthful…and people needed to hear it."

Sam was taken aback. "Well…Toby…"

Toby nodded, not looking at him, just waving a hand in the air dismissively. "Yeah, well…" He looked down at the ground, jamming his hand back into his pocket, then moved his head up just a little, looking at just above and to the left of Sam. "I'm proud of you Sam," he whispered, his voice so low that Sam could hardly hear him.

The lump in Sam's throat was growing larger by the second, and he knew that tears weren't far off. "Thank you," he choked out.

Blue eyes met brown and held, and Toby nodded once, just once, before he walked out.

He'd only just left when there was another knock on the door, and Donna came in. He smiled for her, but he couldn't help but look past her, to see if there was anyone else coming. Donna noticed his gaze and smiled weakly. "It's just me Sam," she said.

He tried not to feel disappointed, he really did, but he wasn't quite that strong. What was strong was the anger he was feeling, and he nodded, his jaw set. "That's fine," he said, although it probably wasn't.

"He wanted to be here Sam-" she began, but he shook his head, cutting her off.

"No, he didn't. And that's fine. I don't want him here."

Donna bit her lip, her eyes wide, and he wondered if she heard the lie underneath the anger. "Sam…" She drew out his name, and he stepped towards her, pulling her into his arms, just like he had with Bonnie and Ginger.

"It's fine Donna," he whispered. "This is the way it has to be."

"Well…" Donna's voice was muffled against his shirt. "This sucks."

>*<*>*<

"This sucks."

Danny raised an eyebrow at the woman across the table from him, against all odds, a smile coming to his face. "That going to be the headline in your paper tomorrow?" Katie's face lit up in a tired smile as he continued, "Because I'm just saying that if it is, I might sell a few more copies of mine."

"You know what I mean," she told him, her eyes leaving his face and going to the little tape recorder in her hand. "This sucks."

Idly, she pressed the rewind button and the play button several times in succession, and a strong voice filled the silent room.

"…an honour that we will never forget…"

Stop...Rewind…Play.

"…by mutual decision…."

Stop...Rewind…Play.

"…to avoid any appearance of impropriety…"

Stop...Rewind…Play.

"…nothing immoral…"

Stop...Rewind…Play.

"…confirm that fact that…."

Stop...Rewind…Play.

"….Good afternoon…."

Stop.

She was chewing on her lower lip, and he reached over with a pencil, tapping her hand gently. "It's not going to change, no matter how much you listen to it," he chided.

The tape recorder met the table with a loud thunk, followed by a sigh from Katie. "I can't believe we have to write about this," she complained. "I mean, we know them. We've worked with them for years…do you really think that they've done anything wrong?"

Danny only had to consider it for half a second. "Nope."

"The only place this is an issue is in the tabloid press."

"And with Mary Marsh."

Katie rolled her eyes at the mention of the name. "This isn't what I signed on for Danny. I became a reporter because I wanted to report news, not gossip. Because I wanted to report on life-changing stuff." She shook her head, blowing out a disgusted breath. "Whose life does this change?"

Danny picked up a photograph from the folder in front of him; not the photograph that had started the day, but the one that would finish it. A man stood at a podium, in front of the White House logo, a woman to his right, in the spot where she had stood unremarked upon for the last four years. Today, the last day she would stand there, she was all anyone was talking about.

"Theirs."

>*<*>*<

Josh paced restlessly around CJ's office, alternately running his hands through his hair and pushing them into his pockets. CJ was reclining on her chair, trying not to look at him, because he was all but giving her motion sickness. Toby was on her couch, head back against the cushions, staring at the ceiling.

"I can't believe he's doing this!" Josh stated for the umpteenth time, throwing his hands to Heaven, also for the umpteenth time.

"We heard," CJ said tiredly, massaging the bridge of her nose with one hand. It had been a long day, and it wasn't over yet.

"Come on!" Josh wasn't giving up. "I can't believe you're both being so calm over this!" His gaze swung from one to the other. "Aren't you going to try to talk him out of this?"

"He's made his decision Josh." Toby was fiddling with his tie, sounding at least as tired as CJ felt. "I don't think we'd have any luck. I think all we can do is…" He sighed, dropping the tie, patting his fingers against it as it laid against his chest. "Respect it."

Josh had been staring at him, now he turned to CJ. "You're going along with this?"

"Sam's a big boy Josh. It's his decision."

"Can't you talk to her? See if she has any pull with him?"

"I've tried."

CJ looked up to see her assistant standing in the open doorway, and a glance at Josh and Toby assured her that they looked as shocked as she felt. "How long have you-" she began, but Carol anticipated the question and cut off the end.

"Long enough," she said, taking a couple of steps into the office, ending up so that she was standing in front of Josh. "Don't you think I've tried to talk him out of this Josh?" Her voice wasn't loud or strident, she wasn't shouting, but the emotion in her words gave them even more impact. "Don't you think I know what he's giving up? What this is costing him? Don't you think that I'd do anything…" Her voice broke slightly on the last word and she looked down, taking a deep breath. "He's made up his mind Josh." She held his angry gaze for a long moment before she took another deep breath and turned to CJ. "And so have I."

CJ's stomach dropped as she looked at the white envelope that Carol was sliding across the desk to her. She didn't need to open it; there could only be one thing written on the sheet of paper. "Carol…" she began, looking up at the younger woman.

Carol gave her a shaky smile as she slowly lifted her hand from the envelope. "I'm sorry CJ," she whispered before standing tall, fixing her jacket. "The press conference is in twenty minutes," she said, looking at Toby quickly, but fixing her gaze on Josh. "If you want to say something to him-"

"I don't." Carol flinched at the cold words, but she didn't bat an eyelash when he slammed the door behind him.

>*<*>*<

Tempers were running high in the Oval Office. Toby and Josh looked like they were doing laps of the room, pacing restlessly, hands gesturing at a rate of knots, talking together, over one another, with only occasional lapses into silence before starting up again. CJ was listening to them, sometimes chiming in, but only when she didn't have her cell phone to her ear, talking to whoever she talked to when she was trying to put a spin on things.

In the middle of it all, staring at the Seal of the President on the carpet, sitting side by side on the couch, not touching, were Sam and Carol, the calm in the eye of the storm.

CJ snapped her phone closed and Josh and Toby stopped pacing when they heard two loud voices approaching, while Sam and Carol exchanged a quick look of nervous terror. All five sprang to their feet when the President and Leo entered, the President slamming the door behind him. "Is this true?" he thundered, abandoning all preliminaries, already knowing the answer.

"Yes Sir." It was Sam who answered, not moving from where he stood, but he met the President's look without flinching.

"CJ?" Leo looked at the Press Secretary, and she understood his implicit question.

"All the major networks are running it; most of the papers will have it in their afternoon edition. I'm fielding calls from every news outlet that I've ever heard of, and Mary Marsh is issuing a statement as we speak."

The President was standing behind his desk by now, and he looked up to the ceiling. "Well, we can write that one ourselves, can't we?" It was a rhetorical question, and no-one spoke, but they all jumped when his hands banged down on the desk. "We were getting somewhere. We were free of scandal." Frustration emanated from him in waves. "What the hell happened?" He sat down at the desk, disgusted.

"Sir, I realise this looks bad-" Sam tried to speak, and the President opened his mouth to say something. But it was Josh whose voice boomed out across the room.

"Looks bad? Sam, this is bad! You're a Senior Advisor to the President, and you're having an affair with a White House assistant! This is bad."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "We didn't do anything wrong Josh," he pointed out, not raising his voice. "I was single, so was she. We don't work together, she's not my assistant. There was no coercion. We didn't do anything wrong."

"Nonetheless…" Toby's voice was quiet. "The appearance will be that-"

"I don't care about what it looks like-" Sam began.

"Well, you should!" Josh told him, hands braced on the back of the couch that Sam and Carol were sitting on. "Do you know what they're going to say about you? Both of you? About this administration?"

"Have you seen the pictures Josh?" Sam countered. "They're hardly what you'd call incriminating."

"They're pictures taken over a period of three weeks, that show you and Carol…"

"Walking down the street together. Having dinner together. Talking to one another." Sam cut Josh off once again, his voice getting louder. "Hardly something that's going to have us up on morals charges."

"Sam…" CJ's voice was calm, the sound of oil being poured on troubled waters. "The point is, that it paints a picture…"

"Of a relationship CJ, not an affair! There's nothing sordid about this."

"And none of that matters to Mary Marsh." CJ did sound like she regretted that fact.

Silence reigned for what seemed like a long time before the President spoke. "These pictures…there's nothing that…"

"No." Several people spoke at once.

"Can we spin this?" the President wondered.

Leo shrugged. "Two close friends who work together, spend time together…nothing untoward going on…"

Toby's head bobbed from side to side, considering. "It could work." He fixed Sam and Carol with a hard look. "You'd have to stop seeing one another. But we could do that."

"No." All heads snapped around to Sam. "No," he repeated, ignoring the looks of surprise on their faces. "I'm not going to deny this. And we're not going to stop seeing each other."

The President leaned forward, elbows on his desk, playing with his reading glasses absently. "Sam…it should be clear to you…I can't countenance a relationship between a White House Senior Staffer and a subordinate."

"Sir, with all due respect, she's not my assistant. We don't work together…"

Leo broke in. "Sam, it's the-"

"Appearance, I know." Sam shook his head, reaching out blindly and taking Carol's hand. He looked at the President, then around to Carol, and what she saw in his face had her sucking her breath in sharply.

"Sam, no…" she whispered.

He grinned shakily. "Yes." He squeezed her hand before looking around the room, looking at his friends, his colleagues. "I can't believe I'm saying this," he murmured, almost to himself. The last face he looked at was the President's. "Sir, I serve at the pleasure of the President. And it has been a pleasure, and an honour to do so. Five and a half years ago, I walked out on my job, my life, because Josh came to my door and told me that he'd found the real thing. I never dreamed that his real thing would lead to me finding my real thing." He looked at Carol as he spoke, and she flushed scarlet, tears in her eyes. "Mr President, this isn't some sordid affair. We love one another. And for what it's worth, we considered everything that has been said here before we started seeing one another. We didn't go into this blind; we knew what might happen. We knew the worst case scenario." He took a deep breath, standing up. "I love my job Sir. I love working in the White House. But I won't give Carol up." He paused, swallowing hard. "You'll have my letter of resignation within the hour."

>*<*>*<

The ringing of the telephone shocked him into wakefulness, and as he struggled to sit up, reaching for the receiver, the thought passed through his mind that no good news ever came in a phone call when it woke you up in the middle of the night. When he looked at the glowing red numbers on the clock, they told him that it was five a.m., almost time for him to be getting up anyway, but somehow, that didn't make him feel too much better.

The voice on the other end made him feel even worse. CJ didn't even wait for him to mumble a hello into the receiver. The moment she heard him pick up the phone, she was talking. "Samuel Norman Seaborn, get up, get dressed and get your ass in here right now."

If no good came from phone calls this early in the morning, it sure didn't come from a phone call this early in the morning when CJ was using his full name. "CJ, it's five in the morning," he parried.

"I don't care what time it is, I've been here for the last two hours trying to keep a lid on this, I want you in here and I want you in here now!"

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair. "You know, you haven't even told me what's wrong…just screamed at me a lot…"

"Oh, I haven't even begun," he was told. "And get Carol in here too."

His heart stopped for a beat, then lurched painfully to life again. "What do you-" It was a ragged whisper.

"I know Sam. And I'm not going to be the only one. Hang up the phone, turn to the woman beside you, and get in here."

There was a click on the line and she was gone, leaving him staring off into the distance. "Sam?" It was a quiet question from behind him, and he felt a hand on his shoulder. His stomach twisting, he turned to face her, and he saw the dread that he was feeling mirrored in her face.

"That was CJ," he told her, answering her unspoken question. "She knows."

>*<*>*<

He woke up with a start, knowing that there was something wrong, something missing. A hand flung out to the side soon told him that he was alone in bed, a glance to the other side, to the red numbers on his clock radio told him that it was two in the morning. They were going to have to be up in another three hours or so anyway - where the hell was she?

He was sitting up in bed, just turning on the light when he heard a soft exclamation. "Sam!" She was standing in the doorway, screwing up her eyes against the light. "Are you trying to blind me here?"

"I was wondering where you were," was all he said, distracted by the sight of her padding barefoot towards him in a pale grey Princeton Tigers T-shirt, her hair falling loose around her shoulders.

"I was thirsty," she shrugged, sliding into bed beside him, snuggling up against him. "You're nice and warm," she told him, and he laughed, because she wasn't.

"You're freezing," he pointed out.

"Well, it's Washington in March Sam. It's not exactly tropical out there," she replied. "You could warm me up you know." She wriggled against him, and that made him laugh some more.

"If that's an invitation," he said. "Then I'm going to have to take a raincheck."

"Spoilsport," she grumbled.

"It's two in the morning," he told her, reaching out behind him to snap off the bedside light. "And we need to get some sleep. It's going to be a long day tomorrow."

"They're all long days," was her logical reply.

"So they are." He rolled on to his back, pulling her with him, pressing her head to his shoulder, kissing her forehead. "Go to sleep."

She sighed contentedly, wrapping her body around his. "Love you," she murmured as she began to doze off.

He smiled in the darkness. "Love you too."